<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>dratchet Party 2020 (SFW) by thedragonfly</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23363572">dratchet Party 2020 (SFW)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedragonfly/pseuds/thedragonfly'>thedragonfly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Drift/Ratchet stories [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Violence, Hotel, M/M, Robot blood, Swearing, Tags May Change, dratchet party 2020 (transformers)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:26:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,592</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23363572</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedragonfly/pseuds/thedragonfly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven short fics for dratchet party 2020. This is the SFW edition.<br/>Prompts:<br/>1) Hotel<br/>2) Gold<br/>3) Candy<br/>4) Hearts Resolved and Hands Prepared<br/>5) Sleepiness<br/>6) Broken and Bleeding<br/>7) [Free Space]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Drift/Ratchet stories [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/405147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. #1: Hotel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm about three weeks late to the party, but better late than never. At the time #dratchetparty was beginning I was supposed to be starting a new program in college and was going to just skip it or even do it on my May semester break. Covid-19 broke out, my program got cancelled, my muse went on vacation for a week. I recalled the muse from vacation and am participating.</p>
<p>I plan to do an NSFW companion #dratchetparty piece alongside this one, so if that interests you, watch out for that one.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The staff at the hotel on this planet had given Ratchet a hard time with renting a room. Probably something to do with the fact he was carrying an injured Cybertronian in his arms, covered in energon, dirt, dust, and ash. They had repeatedly <i>suggested</i> that the hotel wasn't equipped for his needs and he should find a nearby hospital. </p>
<p>The medic had snapped back that the nearest hospital to help <i>his kind</i> was on the other side of the galaxy and he was a medic, thank you very much. One of Cybertron's best medics, though he was not going to blow his own horn. </p>
<p>When Ratchet had told them he'd pay double the rate, the blue-skinned organic finally relented and gave him a room.</p>
<p>Ratchet carried the unconscious swordsmech in his arms, following the organic. He grunted out something that may or may not have been some version of a 'thank you' as he was led into his room and carefully deposited Drift onto the recharge slab.</p>
<p>With the organic gone, Ratchet quickly went to work on Drift, setting up an energon line on the unconscious mech and patching up the rest of his hastily applied field patches.</p>
<p>Ratchet’s hands worked of their own accord, many millennia of patching bots up meant he could do this with his optics closed and one hand behind his back. He flashed back to how he had found Drift.... the swordsmech was buried under several layers of rubble from a now-destroyed housing complex. At the bottom of the rubble, he found Drift on one hand and his knees, somehow having locked his joints to protect two small organic children, using his own frame as a shield. When Ratchet had moved the debris enough, the children had blinked up from under Drift’s chest before getting up and running off – presumably to find their parents or others of their kind. Ratchet had found Drift's missing arm, dented and with frayed wires like it was shot off his frame. He was also fairly certain the kid had a concussion, the extent of which he wouldn't be able to ascertain until he woke up.</p>
<p>Ratchet finished his work for the time being and sat himself down on a chair, setting his sensors trained to watch Drift for any signs of discomfort or waking.</p>
<p>"Oh kid...." Ratchet whispered, reaching out to hold Drift's remaining hand in his. He pressed the knuckles up to his cheek before kissing them. "Should've stood up to Rodimus 'bout exiling you. Scrap, I probably should've told you how I felt about you...."</p>
<p>He must've slipped into a light recharge at some point as he was roused by feeling Drift's hand and arm moving. He looked over to see the other mech sleepily taking in his surroundings.</p>
<p>"Wh– wha– Ratchet....?" Drift croaked out. "How...?"</p>
<p>"Yeah kid.... it's me," Ratchet confirmed. "You pulled a real stupid stunt back there protecting those kids."</p>
<p>"Thanks...?" Drift responded. "But you were back there on the... the Lost Light..."</p>
<p>Ratchet's face flushed as he looked at the wall opposite Drift. "I came after you, Drift. For all we bicker and tease each day and scrap, I missed you. And if I'm honest, I love you." He squeezed Drift's hand in his own. "And we'll discuss that when you're better... Recharge some more, I'll still be here when you wake up again."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. #2: Gold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We're travelling back to pre-Deadlock Drift and young Ratchet. I'm avoiding the typical usage of gold.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ratchet led Drift through the lobby of his apartment complex. He glared at the front desk bot who was staring just a bit too much at his guest. Ratchet slipped an arm around Drift, supporting the ill speedster. “Just a lift ride and we’re there,” he said.</p><p>Drift nodded. He had been at Ratchet’s clinic for the entire day with an upset tank, sputtering engine, and his fan working on high to dissipate the heat from his frame. Ratchet had quickly diagnosed the problem as the latest virus circulating. Unfortunately, bots that lived on the streets, like Drift, had the least resistance to it.</p><p>Ratchet had been able to clear out most of the errant code, there were a few remaining fragments in his system, but for now Drift needed a warm, dry place to rest with clean, untainted fuel in his system.</p><p>Unless he wanted to spend the night cycle in the clinic, himself, Ratchet figured it would be best to bring the mech home with him. Unlike some of the other mecha that Ratchet treated, Drift wasn’t dangerous; sure he was a drug addict, siphonist, and a prostitute, but he wasn’t a criminal.</p><p>That’s how Ratchet found himself bringing Drift into his apartment, as he closed and locked the front door to his place behind them. He led Drift over to the island of his small kitchen, letting Drift situate himself onto one of the high stools there.</p><p>“I’ll get you a glass of some nice mild midgrade,” Ratchet said, turning to his cupboards to pull out a pair of mugs.</p><p>Drift sat himself down on the stool and looked around the place, curiosity taking over the fatigue and slight queasiness of his tank.</p><p>The apartment was very utilitarian with just enough furniture for one bit and perhaps a visitor. On one wall was a shelf, however, on which was a shiny gold-plated chronometer, a framed still image of a grinning Ratchet with Thunderclash behind him. On the other side of the image of Ratchet and Thunderclash was a golden medal, signifying Ratchet's graduation from medical school, in the top of his class.</p><p>Drift's thoughts were interrupted by Ratchet setting down a mug of warmed up energon in front of him. He grabbed the mug and started to gulp the energon down.</p><p>"Easy there," Ratchet cautioned, "Drinking too fast might upset your tank and cause you to purge. I've got lots of energon here, no one's gonna steal from you."</p><p>Drift lowered the mug down, most of the beverage already gone. He wiped his mouth with the backside of his hand, staring into the mug hungrily.</p><p>Ratchet vented a sigh, as his advice went mostly unheeded. “I’ve got a guest room down the hall and you’re of course welcome to use the washracks.”</p><p>Drift’s finials perked up hearing that he would have access to the washracks. “I.... really?” he asked.</p><p>“Of course,” Ratchet nodded. “You can use any of the supplies in there... Down the hall, first door on the left. If you need anything, just ask.”</p><p>Drift quickly downed the last of his energon and stood up, a bit wobbily from his frame still fighting off the virus. He looked down the hall, where Ratchet indicated the washracks were and back at Ratchet. The medic merely nodded his head and Drift went to take his shower.</p><p>Ratchet slowly finished off his own energon and then put the mugs in the sink to clean up later. He walked past the washracks, biting back the urge to steal a look inside at his patient. He walked into the guest room, cleaning some data pads off the berth and putting them on the shelf. Knowing Drift was bound to be colder than himself during the night, he pulled an extra blanket down and spread it over the current one.</p><p>Drift stepped into the guest room, a bit timidly at first. Ratchet looked up quickly, surprised at the mech standing before him shining white, gleaming black, and shimmering yellow paint. Ratchet stood up quickly, looking at the berth. “Well, ah, here’s your berth,” he said, and exited the room.</p><p>“Right. Ah... thanks, Ratchet,” Drift said, watching the retreating form of the medic. He slipped into the bed, pulling the covers over him right up to his finials.</p><p>Drift woke in the morning feeling much better. He pulled the blankets back up around him, enjoying the rare comfort of a berth, pillow, and blankets. He would have to leave this den of coziness and the thought of that made his finials droop. After another few moments, Drift reluctantly slipped out from under the blankets and stood up in the slightly chillier air of the room. </p><p>Stepping out into the main living area, Drift heard the sound of falling cleanser in the washracks and saw another cube of energon on the kitchen island. </p><p>Drift moved quickly, swiping the chronometer and medal from the shelf, accidentally knocking the picture of Ratchet and Thunderclash onto its face. He stuffed both the items into his subspace. As he walked to the kitchen, the sounds of the shower ended abruptly.</p><p>Drift sat down at the kitchen island and started to drink down the energon waiting there. </p><p>Ratchet emerged from the washracks and saw Drift. "Feeling better this morning, Drift?" he asked. The white-and-black mech nodded his helm, gulping down the energon.</p><p>Shortly afterwards Ratchet and Drift left the apartment. Ratchet had a shift at the hospital today. "I'll..... see you around?" Ratchet asked, putting a hand on one of Drift's shoulders. </p><p>"Yeah. Around..." Drift said, the guilt of having stolen from Ratchet heavy on his spark. He turned around and transformed to his alt-mode and heading back to the Rodion district. </p><p>Later that night Ratchet trudged wearily back into his apartment, his optics scanned over the shelf, noticing the missing items. He sighed aloud, feeling disappointed with Drift and with himself; he didn't need the items certainly, but he wished Drift had just asked him for money. He would have given the speedster model the credits. Fraggit, he felt his spark flutter slightly. He shouldn't have feelings for this mech; he was another patient, nothing more. Right?</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>